


Bedrooms, Bathrooms, Kitchens

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Blowjobs, Breakfast in Bed, Domestic, M/M, bathroom floor fucking, bottom!Robert, up against the sink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: For Bottom!Robert Sugden Week! Day One: DomesticRobert makes Aaron breakfast in bed and discussion soon falls to their sex life and the domestic chores of every day life that Aaron deems unsexy until Robert reminds him of a very specific occasion...





	Bedrooms, Bathrooms, Kitchens

He has sticky jam smears on the pads of his fingers. Strawberry – maybe? Raspberry – very possibly. Robert pulls one of those sugared fingers into his mouth and stops at the knuckle, releasing the wet finger with a pop and watching Aaron squirm, wiping those damp fingers on the duvet. Robert pulls Aaron’s hand back to him and kisses his palm, once then twice and lets it curl around his neck. Aaron shakes his head and Robert knows that look all too well, disbelief.

“Breakfast in bed, eh?” Aaron says, words riding the wave of a sigh and his hips rolling down the bed a little so his chin is tucked onto his chest. The plate of toast has been moved to the bedside table. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Usually with you, yeah. So, go on then what have you done?” There’s the trademark eyebrow raise and the loosening of his grip on Robert’s skin like he’s already preparing for the worst.

“Why do I have to’ve _done_ anything? It was toast, Aaron. Toast. It’s not even good toast, it’s that cheap stuff that goes stale in a day.”

“Still. I’m lucky if you bring me so much as a coffee first thing.”

“Because you like to sleep in and I don’t want to wake you.” The morning frown is even deeper than his usual expression.

The head to one side. A stare that goes on forever. “So the morning blow jobs…”

“…are a gentle start to the day. That way you don’t bite my head off when I have to leave at six thirty.” He likes blowing air on Aaron’s thighs at six, just before he has to go. He’s always dressed by then – but he’s had to change a few times when they got carried away – crawling under the covers and seducing Aaron away from sleep with a soft-kissing murmur of his name. Aaron always stirs, without complaint, and lifts the covers enough to see Robert between his legs, shuts his eyes again and puts a little pressure on Robert’s head to know it’s okay to carry on.  

“Bite your _head_ off? Might want to rethink your turn of phrase there–”

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.” Robert snuggles down into the pillow next to him, leaning into his side of the bed and worming his hand under the covers to find Aaron’s hip. “You’ve always loved that first thing…”

He sounds needy now, even to himself. But Aaron did love his cock sucked first thing; they both did. That bed-warm, musty fuzziness, the laziness. Coming that wasn’t just coming, but ripping out of sleep and feeling every nerve tingle with an unmatched awake-ness. It’s been the same from day one – illicit hotel blow jobs before a morning shower – and now, when they share a house and a marriage.  

Aaron’s softening, the groans of irritation tempered by the perfect toast, the jam residue making the corners of his lips sweet when kissed. Robert gets an eye roll now as Aaron noses the pillow, a fondness smoothing between them by the way his crinkled morning eyes track Robert’s face.

“I promise you, I haven’t done anything,” Robert says. He reaches out, thumbs Aaron’s earlobe and then slides his hand back down the shape of his body. “Except make you some very average toast. Because I wanted an excuse to get back into bed with you and not sit at opposite sides of the table having breakfast in silence like we’re middle aged or something. You on your phone and me with the paper.”

“You _are_ middle aged.”

“Oh thank you. Well I’m regretting that toast now.”

“Don’t,” he says, craning up his neck and kissing the edge of his bottom lip. “It was lovely, alright? Just how I like it.”

“I mean it, though. I don’t want us to turn into that.”

“Robert, come on! You had me on the bathroom floor last night, if you remember. You can’t say we’re some boring old couple doing the crossword.”

Of course he remembers. Aaron’s skin was hot and slippery from the bath, eyes glassy from the steam. He fingered him open against the door even though their perfectly comfortable bed was metres away. Robert was still dressed at that point, suit growing damp where he’d pressed against Aaron’s clean body to kiss his loose and moan ridden mouth. He’d had him on the bathroom floor just after, knees apart, knuckles behind him and clawed on the edge of the bath. They used it for leverage, for momentum. It was killing his knees, but he wasn’t going to say anything in case Aaron dipped into his old man jokes again. It didn’t take long for him to come anyway, just the sight of Aaron laid out glistening was enough to destroy his willpower.

“Yeah and then after you told me you couldn’t come straight to bed cos the plug needed cleaning out!”

“Oh like you had another round in you straight away!”

“Well the thought of you unclogging the hair out the bath wasn’t exactly keeping me in the mood.”

Aaron pulls a face. His scrunched up, indignant face. “Sorry I can’t make cleaning sexy for you! Seeing you doing the washing up doesn’t exactly make me hard either.”

Robert gives a little scuff of a laugh. “We both know that’s not true.”

“You what?”

“Was it really that forgettable?”

Aaron’s mouth upturns, his chin a little left-right quiver of confusion. And Robert’s voice lowers, the backs of his fingers skirting against Aaron’s belly and thumbing through the dark hair above his cock.

“You got yourself a new business partnership at the yard, I cooked us a celebratory tea and then I’m up to my elbows in Fairy Liquid…”

And there was a kiss at the base of his neck. Normally after tea they both gravitated to the sofa to catch up on whatever series they were working their way through. This time it was 24 and Robert had told him not to start the episode until he’d cleaned up a few bits. But after a few restless minutes of Aaron fidgeting with the cushions and dimming the lights, getting a few more cans from the fridge, he’d returned to the kitchen and more specifically the sink.

“Robert…” he’d begun, the kind of voice that sent Robert’s stomach pooling and a blush shredding his skin. Aaron’s hands came forward and unbuckled his belt.

He hadn’t need to say anything in reply – nothing was going to deter or encourage Aaron in this mood. Instead he let Aaron pull down his jeans and underwear to his knees and arched his arm back to pull Aaron’s head closer so that they could share an awkwardly positioned kiss. He wasn’t sure what prompted such brazen determination from Aaron, but it always came with an unexpected hunger, a lightning bolt to his dick.

“Right here?” Robert said, as if they’d never fucked in the kitchen before. As if Aaron hadn’t bent him over the kitchen table and screwed him until all he could see was white heat when he shut his eyes. He was pleasantly sore everywhere after that time.

“Right here,” Aaron said, confirming this with the sound of his zip and a barely concealed whimper of relief.

Robert still had his hands in the dish water, scouring pad to the right and the tap still trickling. The Fairy Liquid bottle was just in Aaron’s reach. It was for sensitive hands – another thing Aaron sneered at when Robert unpacked the shopping and saw one too many poncy items – but it’d do in the circumstances. Not as good as the new lube they’d been trying out upstairs, but neither of them had much patience to put things on pause to get it.

The heat of Aaron’s persistent fingers curled deep inside him, making everything feel closer, tighter. The walls, his clothes, his breath. He felt a dull rhythm inside, a heavy thrum of his cock dying for attention. His hips were involuntarily thrusting by then, intensifying Aaron’s shallow finger play. If he looked fucking desperate, it’s because he was. He widened the space between his feet, leaning more heavily on his arms and arching himself out for Aaron’s mercy. He could feel the whisper of Aaron’s hard cock against his leg, getting himself off on just the tease of skin on skin.

The groan that escaped first from Robert was one of frustration, of teeth dragging against skin and his arse doing most of the work for him. If he rocked back hard enough he could feel the wet tip of Aaron’s cock taunting him and very much not inside of him like he wanted. Then Aaron removed his fingers and Robert stilled like he was suspended in purgatory, conscious only of Aaron’s deep, dark breathing that sounded like it was the only thing that existed in the universe.

Then finally the jackpot. Christmas, birthday, heaven – all of him. Eased and agonisingly careful until he wasn’t fucking around anymore, sighing and taking full possession of Robert’s hips. Aaron’s grunts built and built, from the soft and sharp to the heavy and prolonged bouts of pleasure only Robert’s body could give. Robert lost awareness of the things he said out loud or thoughts that spiralled. He felt Aaron’s hand reach clumsily to his cock, hissing through his teeth as Aaron’s steady swerve of his hips pounded an electric heat into him, a sharp sting of nerves and desires. He could hear Aaron’s stuttered cries of _Fuck fuck fuck_ and a loss of control that sent Robert into a loose and greedy need for more force, more speed. He wanted to stop feeling his legs. He wanted to be like this forever, burning up inside and Aaron pulling him under.

Aaron came first, fingernails scratching under Robert’s shirt and pressed against him, wet and gasping. It was a mutual effort to get Robert off, two hands and one last finger pressed into him. _God you’re so…_ being Robert’s final words before coming over them both.

In bed now, having retold the anecdote in breathy descriptions and ellipsis, Robert can’t help but enjoy the sudden lip-biting coyness on Aaron’s face.

“Well that time was different,” he says, resistant and folding his arms across his chest away from Robert. “That wasn’t about you being a domestic god or anything.”

“I don’t know,” Robert says, teasing. “Quickest way to your cock is through your stomach. Why’d you think I cooked your favourite?”

“Didn’t want to prove you wrong, did I?”

“So…the toast doesn’t qualify for a repeat performance?”

“Well, like you said. It’s only toast.”

“Lovingly made toast.”

“You bunged a bit of bread in a toaster. It’s not exactly hard.”

“No…but I know what is…” Robert says, grinning as he reaches for Aaron’s cock.

“Get off,” Aaron says. “Anyway it wasn’t the tea you cooked or the washing up that made me go after you.”

“No?”

“You were in those jeans again…”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“If I wear them every day is the novelty gonna wear off?”

“Might,” Aaron says. “But don’t kid yourself. You wouldn’t last a shag like that every day.”

 


End file.
